


Called out in the Dark

by panicparade



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Growing Up, M/M, Post Panic! Split, Reconciliation, Tour!fic, more tags to come, pairings will change!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panicparade/pseuds/panicparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where everyone does some growing up. </p><p>And then some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Right in the face

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is totally a WIP. Which I'm posting because I need to know if there's any point in writing any further or not. The thing is, I love collecting WIP's, I have a sh*t ton of them and it's time I do something about it. So, yeah. Please lemme know what you guys think.
> 
> Also, not beta-ed.

Brendon jumped off the bus, tilting his head towards the sun and breathing in the fresh air after hours spent stuck in cramped quarters. Not that the bus they had now was small by any standards, it was the biggest they had had till date! He turned around and stared at it, trying to remember days when they used to be stuck in that small van, four of them together, too excited about the prospect of getting to play in front of people to even worry about the amount of space they had.

Some days Brendon wonders if they were happier then, than they are now. Then he thinks of all the things that he has now, a happy home, a stable life, a loving girlfriend and pushes all those doubts to the side; studiously ignoring what he doesn’t have. They’ve been over it, _he’s_ been over it, it was a mutual decision and he’s fine with it now; they all are.

“Brendon!”

He turns to see Zack waving at him from bus, his patent _I know what you’re up to_ look on.

“How many times have we talked about not walking off on your own?” Zack asks, resisting the urge to rub his face, it’s only the start of the tour, they still have three more months to go; honestly, some days he feels like he’s too old for this shit.

“I have my phone,” Brendon says, patting his front pocket, “and I’m just going for a walk. I’ll be back before bus call.”

Zack stares at him, trying to get him to come back inside where Zack knows every band member is and he doesn’t have to worry about their safety and the danger of a pyscho fangirl attacking them. But gone are the days when Brendon was scared of him and would come running as soon as Zack got even a little angry. He misses it now, but at that point of time nothing pissed him off more than to see the long lasting effect of his childhood; though this was nothing compared to Ryan, Zack doesn’t even like thinking of what had happened the first few times he had raised his voice on Ryan, till finally a visibly furious Spencer had pulled him aside and had a talk with him.

Brendon takes off again at Zack’s nod, excited to check out all the other bands on the road with them, meeting up with people he hasn’t seen in a long time. TWTLTYTD took ages to finish, but Brendon needed it to be perfect, needed it to be better than the last, needed to stop himself from comparing everything to the way they had done it before.

He waved at a few people he vaguely recognized and finally found the place he had been looking for, having played at this venue before; a small bench placed right at the edge of the park that faced the parking lot giving Brendon a view of everyone doing their work. He remembered  a time when he would have been right there with the crew, helping them unload stuff and setting up; or even a time before that when there was no crew and it was just them, four skinny guys lifting and moving equipment that weighed more than them and yet they did it with smiles on their faces.

Brendon sighed and took out his phone, scrolling through his messages, replying on auto pilot to the ones from his girlfriend, _Yeah, we’re at the venue, I miss you too, see you soon!_. Had he been paying attention he would have noticed Pete walking towards him, the expression on his face somewhere between indifferent and awe.

“Dude.” Pete greeted, when he’d reached the bench.

“Oh, hey man,” Brendon moved to the side to give Pete space to sit, “’Sup?”

“You need to see this,” Pete handed Brendon his iPad, already open to a page; he finally noticed how Pete looked and wondered what was so bad to get Pete worked on the first day of tour.

Brendon took the iPad from Pete’s hands, turning the screen towards himself; he tensed on coming face to face with a photo of the one person he was trying not to think about.

> _Ex-Panic! Guitarist finally comes out! Exclusive!_
> 
> _The latest news that’s making Panic! fans across the world scream, We knew it!, ex Panic! at the Disco Guitarist Ryan Ross has finally come out of the closet. In true Ross fashion, he decided a simple statement wouldn’t do and chose to be seen making out with his boyfriend . . . ._
> 
> __

Brendon closed the flap on the device and handed it back to Pete, his hands curling into fists that he stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Good for him,” Brendon said, and he almost sounded calm, almost.

“Bren-“

“No, seriously, good for him, I’d have never thought Ross could do it but clearly he’s proved me wrong once again,” Brendon reassured, wondering where this anger was coming from, they’d _both_ decided, both of them had felt that weren’t ready to take such a big step. Only, Brendon had managed to convince himself that he could never do anything like that, but clearly Ryan had made no such promises to himself. And Brendon was happy, he was, really. He loved his girlfriend, the band was in a good place, he had amazing friends and Ryan had a boyfriend . . .

Brendon stood and dusted his jeans, trying not to look at Pete. “I think it’s time I head back to the bus, you know what Zack’s like at the start of a tour, yeah?” he tried to joke, though looking at Pete he could tell his effort had failed miserably. He sighed and said, “I’m fine Pete, honest. Leaving the band and everything else side, Ryan and I made the decision together. _We weren’t ready_. Neither of us was and clearly I decided to ignore while he, after so long, decided to be brave about it. And I’m proud of him for that.”

He nodded to Pete and moved to walk back towards the bus, his nails digging into his palms.

___

Spencer Smith had mixed opinions about tours. He didn’t _love_ them like Brendon did, but he does enjoy playing in front of a crowd every day. What he doesn’t love though, is not having a stable bed or the mass quantities of boxed food they start relying by the end of the tour; yeah, those things he could do without. Also, the drama. Every tour there’s drama, between bands, _in_ bands, venue issues. Is it really that difficult for a tour to go by smoothly?

He’s busy arranging his stuff around his bunk when Brendon gets back and if Spencer hadn’t looked at his face then the fact that he got straight in his bunk and closed the curtain was enough to tell him that something was wrong.

Spencer sighed and dumped his clothes onto his bunk, moving towards Brendon’s and peeling back the curtain without any warning.

“Hey!”

Spencer ignored Brendon’s protests and poked him till he moved to the side, grumbling the entire time about privacy (which, Spencer calls bullshit on, ‘cause Brendon Urie and privacy don’t go together). When Spencer’s comfortably seated inside, he looks at Brendon expectantly, forgetting that this isn’t the same Brendon who was once scared of _that_ look of Spencer’s; the one that even freaked Zack out at times and he’d had great fun using on Dallon when he was new.

“Not gonna work Spence.” Brendon teased; a slight smile on his face.

“Fine then, tell me what’s wrong?” Spencer asked, nudging Brendon’s arm with his foot.

“Nothing,” Brendon replied, “just missing home, you know.” Spencer could tell he was lying; you can’t be someone’s best friend for so many years and not pick up on their tells, but he could also tell when Brendon didn’t want to talk about something.

“Tell me about,” Spencer groaned, ignoring the grateful look Brendon sent his way for going with it, “I swear man, sometimes it feels like I’m too old for this shit.”

Brendon punched him on the arm, “Who you calling old?! Speak for yourself dude!”

And even though Spencer was fine with letting it go for now, falling into their now-standard routine of old people jokes, he decided to get to the root of the problem later. There were very things that could get Brendon so tensed at the start of a tour, and while Spencer could deal with a few of them, one of them was something he still preferred not to deal with.

Some days it was easier for him to act like he was fine and the band was fine; and then there were days when he wanted to shake people around him and ask, _“But, what about me? Who’s gonna ask me how I am?”_ And yeah, Brendon was an awesome friend, his best friend in fact, but even after so many years there were times when Spencer had been able to hide how he was really feeling from Brendon, who hadn’t yet mastered the art of calling him on his bullshit. It was something that took years to develop and the one person who was a pro at it was someone Spencer hadn’t talked to in two years.

He was good at fooling himself and saying that he didn’t care.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Back to the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late, I know. I'm sorry <3 
> 
> Blame it on Drarry and the multitude of fests I've signed up for. It's fun to see people reading what you write but it's so tough on days to get even two words down on the word document. *Sigh* Whoever said writers have it easy? :D 
> 
> I might also change the name of the fic.

Spencer was tapping his foot along to the beat of the song playing on his iPod when he saw it. One of the few secrets he guarded close to his chest, only because he was surrounded by assholes like Pete who wouldn’t leave him alone if they found out, was his love of gossip sites. Whenever he’d have a free hour or two, Spencer loved to browse through the dozens of sites he had bookmarked (hidden under layers of folders) on his browsers. If prodded, Spencer would say that he loved reading about other’s lives, a fresh change from hearing about himself.

It was while he was going through one such site that he seen it; the words Ryan Ross on the side of the page drawing him in, making him click the link. He shouldn’t have done it but like most things, it was a habit he’d been trying to break for years but hadn’t been able to – to stop reacting every time he saw or heard the name.

Clicking on the link Spencer wondered what it could be about – a new song or maybe another picture like the one that had made Spencer’s mom call up Ryan and had shouted on him for an hour, not hanging up till he’d promised to act like a responsible adult.

The last thing Spencer had been expecting see was a picture of Ryan locked in a fierce embrace with Dan Keyes. Spencer wasn’t ready for the onslaught of emotions that hit him all at once – shock warred with anger and the most overwhelming feeling of all was that of relief and pride. He was proud of Ryan for doing this because no matter what else had changed over the past few years the fact would always remain that Spencer had seen Ryan grow from that attention hungry selfie clicking teenager to now this – someone who was proud of who he was and had finally decided to show himself to the world. It was the feeling of relief that made him feel a little sick inside, feeling relived that Ryan hadn’t been brave enough to do this all those years ago otherwise he would still be tortured on a daily basis seeing Ryan and Brendon curled up on the couch together or knowing what would happen once they closed the hotel door behind them.

 

Spencer knew being best friends meant that you always wanted the other person to be happy, but how could he, when each time he saw the two of them together he was faced with the harsh reality of what could have been had he taken the first step before Brendon got a chance.

His relief is short lived when he looks back at his laptop screen and sees the picture again, for some reason he really hates Dan Keyes. And now he feels the same way about himself because ho pathetic is it that he’s still pining away for his ex-best friend that he hasn’t talked to in years. Spencer heard someone coming from the front of the bus and closed all the tabs that were open on his browser.

It was only when Brendon had walked in that Spencer figured out that maybe the reason why Brendon had been upset a few days ago was the same one that was making him feel like he’d lost something he never had a chance of owning.

Leave it to Ryan Ross to affect them in such a way even though they hadn’t talked in years.

____

Ryan clutched his head and groaned, squinting against the light that was filtering in through the half open curtains. He felt a weight against his back but he was too busy trying not to die to pay attention to who was in bed with him. Never again was he going out drinking till he couldn’t walk straight; maybe it was time to accept that he was old and stick with drinking plain old coffee all day long.

The thought wasn’t as unappealing as it would have been once.

He picked up his phone from where it was lying on the floor next to the bed to check the time and found it switched off. It took some time for him to remember that he’d done so himself after he hadn’t been able to figure out how to switch off all the twitter, facebook and instagram alerts from people either saying _I knew it!!!!_ to _I can make you straight RyRo!!!! <3 _

It had been three months since that infernal article and apparently that was all people were still talking about. On the other hand it had garnered more attention to his music and the number of followers on his Soundcloud page had doubled. Still, he wished sometimes for the anonymity staying in the closet had, the Panic! fans had forgotten about him and it wasn’t like he was out promoting himself so there weren’t really any new fans.

Ryan stretched and stood out of bed, turning back to see Dan spread on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest. For the millionth time Ryan felt guilty for dragging him into this, they’d been out with friends and there was too much alcohol. The combination of all those things plus seeing a gay couple having a quiet romantic dinner had done it for Ryan who’d asked his best friend ever to help him come out to the world. Dan, who’d been some twenty shots down had seen no harm in it, after all the whole world was already linking them together and had agreed to help Ryan out. And the rest, as they say, was history.

Needless to say Rachel hadn’t taken so well, if so well meant breaking up with Dan.

Ryan padded over to the bathroom and washed his face; which was when he saw it. He stared at his reflection and slowly raised his hand up to this right ear, wincing when pain rushed through his head as soon as his finger touched the red skin. Huh, well this explained the pain in his ear, after all getting re-pierced wasn’t exactly a walk in the park!

He turned his head from side to side, enjoying the way the light caught on the stud and was busy thinking about whether he could get away with something bolder when he heard a groan from the bedroom. He sighed and walked back to where Dan lay on the bed, one hand over his eyes while the other was waving in the general direction of the windows as if willing the curtains to shut on their own.

Once Ryan pulled the curtains closed, Dan peeked out from under his hand and gave Ryan a grateful smile before flopping his head back down on the bed, groaning, “Never again Ross! Never again! You’d think I would have learned by now to never go out drinking with you!”

Ryan grinned and climbed back into bed, he couldn’t tell what time it was but it’s not like he had anywhere to be. “Not my fault you’re too old to keep up.”

Dan flipped him and covered his head with the blanket, clearly having no intention of re-entering the world till he felt human again _or_ could move without feeling like he needed to puke.

 

                                                             

 

Ryan had just managed to get his little blanket cocoon all set up when Dan’s phone started ringing. The fucker clearly intended to ignore it so Ryan, being the awesome friend that he was, stuffed it inside Dan’s blanket with him. Sniggering to himself, Ryan climbed in was ready to be lulled to sleep by Dan’s colorful swearing when he felt the blanket being tugged off his head.

“What the fuck, man?” Ryan asked, looking up at Dan’s shocked face.

“It’s for you.” This wasn’t surprising as they had the same friends and almost everyone knew that Dan was crashing at Ryan’s house again, like he had been since the past three months.

“Who is it?”

Dan hesitated and looked at the phone again, as if he wasn’t sure who it was and sure as hell he lifted the phone back up to his ear and asked, “Who is this?”

Ryan waited till Dan got an answer, wondering why he looked so shocked. Maybe it was because most of the people they knew had been out with them last night and by the laws governing alcohol consumption _should have been_ dead to the world right now, like them. Or like they would have been had Dan switched off his phone, like Ryan; clearly he should listen to Ryan more often.

Ryan had almost dozed off to sleep again when Dan handed him the phone and said, “It’s Pete Wentz.” 


	3. Steps

Ryan sat at the counter and warmed his hands around his mug filled with coffee. He hadn’t talked to Pete, couldn’t, not after so many years of radio silence. Ryan wished he was one of those people who learnt to live and let live but he just couldn’t move forward so fast but when he did decide to go forward he never looked back. This is why staying in Panic! had become so difficult for him, playing _Tacks_ and _Camisado_ day after day after day was taking a toll on him that he had never been prepared for.

And just maybe, maybe if he hadn’t been the only once noticing it he would have survived but for the first time in his life Ryan had found himself truly alone; things with Brendon had never been the same and Spencer seemed so happy that Ryan just couldn’t bring himself to make Spencer sit up and take notice of what was going wrong. So he let it be, tried to work himself through it till finally he reached a point where he just couldn’t make through another day.

“You okay?” Ryan jerked and spilled some coffee on his hand, wincing at the burn. Dan cursed and grabbed a paper towel to clean up the spill, “Run it under cold water.”

Once Ryan was settled in his favorite couch facing the living room windows, Dan sat opposite him and asked again, “Ryan, talk to me.”

“Do you think I should have talked to him?” Ryan asked instead, wanting to stall the conversation about how he was feeling for later. Dan had the skill of getting to the root of his emotions without any sweat, something even Spencer had struggled with near the end.

Dan shrugged and replied, “I dunno, I don’t really know him, at least not as well as you do but I think you could have heard him out.”

Ryan sighed and looked out the window, wondering how he was slipping into this frame of mind again, he felt rebellious, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. “It’s just, we haven’t talked in years and I don’t think anything we talk about now can fix that,” is what he says, but what he doesn’t mention is how bad it hurt to have Pete not return his calls, how much it had pained him to see someone he’d thought of as _just like him_ refused to even listen to his side.

Dan was staring at him, the way he did when he knew Ryan was bullshitting, because he knew what Ryan was trying not to say. That a part was no longer that starry eyed kid who’d go running each time Pete Wentz called, that he wouldn’t put everything behind and move forward the moment his teenage idol decided to get back in touch with him; gone were those days, he wasn’t the same old Ryan who wore too tight clothes and posted half naked pictures of himself on the internet.

“Wanna go feed the ducks at the park and make fun of all the wannabe photographers?” Dan asked and Ryan nodded, relived for now that Dan was letting it go instead of grilling him about it.

***

“You wanna do _what_?” Patrick asked him, looking like he wasn’t sure he’d heard Pete correctly.

“You heard me, I’m going to try talking to him tomorrow,” Pete replied, tying his shoes and grabbing his jacket off the couch.

Patrick hesitated and chewed his bottom lip and Pete knew him enough to say, “Out with it, ‘Trick.”

Patrick smiled and shook his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Pete’s ear, “Nothing, just, be gentle Pete. There’s a lot of history and I know you and I know Ross.”

Pete looked affronted and started, “What do you mean? I would never try and hurt Ryan on purpose!”

Patrick shook his head and sighed, “I meant the both of you, be gentle on yourself too. There’s been hurting on both sides and I’m not saying anyone did it on purpose but there are bridges to mend and that can only be done patiently.”

Pete tilted his head and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s lips, “How is someone as smart as you stuck with me?”

Patrick laughed and pushed Pete towards the door, “Yeah, well, smart people have been known to occasionally make stupid decisions.”

Pete stuck his tongue out at him and walked out the door. He had an angsty music prodigy to win back. 


	4. Reconciliation - Lets take the first step.

Ryan cursed as he stumbled over the top step that led back into the house, making yet another mental note to get it removed or leveled or whatever it is that’s done with unruly steps that make the house owners trip and almost break their necks. He’s busy thinking about the merits of installing a ramp in place of the steps, he could brush up on his skateboarding skills _and_ he can slide down, which is why he missed the two people sitting on _his_ couch and drinking _his_ tea.

He passed them by, hopping on one foot; busy cursing as he decides the best way to forget about stupid stairways was a nice, hot cup of tea. Only when he stuck his head back into the living room to shout and ask _Who the fuck took the last teabag?_ did he notice the person sitting opposite Dan on his couch.

“Hey Ross,” Pete said and Ryan wanted to shake his head and say, _No, it can’t be as simple as that_ and he wants to give into his instinct that’s shouting for him to run back to his room except Pete still knows him inside out like way back when, if the way he said, “Hear me out,” is any indication.

Ryan took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge, walking into the room but sitting next to Dan because he knows, _he still knows_ that Pete isn’t above grabbing hold of him in case Ryan decides to run.

Ryan coughed awkwardly, once, twice and mumbled, “So, what’s up?” mentally cringing at how lame sounds. A part of him is pissed that even after all these years, he’s still worried about how cool he comes across as.

 

Before Pete could answer, Dan patted Ryan’s knee and left the room, giving Pete an awkward wave on the way out. And as much as Ryan would like somewhere there with him for moral support, he understands; this is a world Dan, Z and the others were never a part off.

“Let’s cut to the chase, yeah?” Pete asked, leaning back against the seat, looking relaxed but Ryan could tell how nervous he was with the way his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping on the armrest.

Ryan nodded, trying to relax back into the cushions, “Sure, yeah.”

“Don’t you think we’ve all been a little stupid?” Pete asked and as soon he does he wants to take the words back because he could see Ryan tense and he should have known that there are some wounds that don’t fill, ever. After so many years he’s forgotten how to approach Ryan and it shouldn’t be as hard as it is now.

Ryan stood, “If you’ve come here to insult me, I think it’s best –“

“Woah! No, no and I’m sorry, please sit down, Ryan”, Pete sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “You know I’ve come here to do no such thing, why would I do that?”

“I don’t know Pete,” Ryan replied, sitting straight on the edge of the seat, ready to leave, “I don’t why you’re here because it’s not like we’re friends or even acquaintances, fuck, I can’t even remember the last time we talked!”

“I called you up!” Pete stated, mirroring Ryan’s position, “you’re the one who didn’t pick up so don’t put that on me.”

“Well excuse me for not seeing the point in picking up your phone after radio silence for four years!”

“Stop shouting at me!”

“You’re the one who’s shouting now! _Why are you laughing?_ ”

Ryan stared incredulously as Pete Wentz almost lay down on his couch and laughed his ass off. When he finally managed to stop laughing and sit up, Ryan had his arms crossed across his chest and was scowling in a way that was very familiar to Pete.

“Seriously, only you, Ryan Ross can manage to make me shout like a twenty year old again. I feel like I’m back in ’05.”

Ryan snorted and let a small smile slip through, ”Yeah, well, it’s a talent. Seriously though Pete, why are you here?”

“To talk things through,” Pete replied, “to get back in touch with a lost musical baby genius of mine. Did you really think I could let you go completely Ross?”

Ryan turned his head to stare at the giant light hanging in the archway that led to the kitchen, he’d bought it from a flea store near his old house for $5 and this was the only house of his where it seemed to fit in, just like himself.

“You certainly did a good impression of it all these years.”

Pete bit back on the retort that was ready to come out of his mouth and said instead, “Yeah, well, I could say the same and we can argue again so how about we agree that everyone is at fault and instead of playing the blame game, focus on how to fix it?”

Ryan thought about it and even though he knew the answer to that question, a childish part of him wanted Pete to wait.

“Yeah, that seems like a good idea.”

Pete’s answering smirk told Ryan he had no one fooled with his whole thinking act.

“So, how would like to make music again?” Pete asked, rubbing his palms on his jeans to stop himself from running over and hugging the crap out of Ryan.

Ryan frowned, “I never stopped, Pete, wasn’t that the whole point.”

Pete shook his head and rephrased his question, “How would you like to make music with me, or Decaydance if you prefer, again?”

Ryan waited for Pete to finish the joke, maybe they were doing this now, getting over the past by joking about it because no way was Pete serious. When Pete only continued to stare at him, Ryan asked, “You’re joking right?”

“No, why would I be joking?” Pete asked, clearly confused.

“Okay, okay, so you would be joking because back when I needed, we needed a label and we came to you Pete because I thought that no matter what, at least Pete wouldn’t take sides, you refused. You said no Pete, through _a fuckin emal_!”

Pete had the courtesy to look sheepish, he rubbed the back of his neck and said, calmly, “Ryan, you were my discovery, my way of showing people that yeah, look, Decaydance isn’t a one hit thing and then you left, you took Jon and you left! How else was I supposed to react?!”

“So, firstly, I did not take Jon, it was completely his decision and in case you forget, Jon’s an adult. We weren’t twenty year olds again Pete who could decide who we want in the band and who we don’t. I made my own decision and Jon made his, end of story.”

Pete looked like he wanted to interrupt but Ryan wasn’t done. He’d been keeping this in for years and now that he’d started he wanted to get everything out.

“Secondly, I looked up to you Pete. So if Panic! was your discovery, you were the one I looked up to, and the Pete Wentz I looked up  to didn’t give a shit about what people say. I didn’t want to leave, you know that! But, I also couldn’t keep doing what they wanted me to do. Pete,” Ryan sighed, sitting back down, “Black Cards was your thing, only you were lucky enough that your band decided to take a break. I wasn’t that lucky.”

“That still doesn’t justify leaving! You could have worked it out. Are you telling me that Spencer and Brendon wouldn’t have heard you out?”

“I’m telling you I was tired of explaining myself.”

Pete stood up then, “I think we should end this discussion for today, how about we meet for lunch? Friday, my place?”

Ryan wanted to say no, he really did, but what had that gotten him other than years of no communication with people he’d once called his best friends, and more.

“Sure, yeah. Text me your address.” Ryan said, standing up as well and walking towards the door.

It was only after Pete had pulled out of his driveway that Ryan walked to his room and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over his head. He wasn’t getting out, ever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter because it's been ages since I updated. 
> 
> In unrelated news, the HP fandom has sucked me in and made me sign for two fests. :D Emphasis on the _made me_  
>  So, yeah, anyone interested in beta reading? drop me an email at -bloodissharp@yahoo.com if you are.


	5. The magical powers of Mr. Stump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hadn’t wanted this but there really wasn’t much he could do because despite all his bravado the person waiting for him downstairs scared the ever living shit out of Ryan.

 “Ryan.”

“Go away.”

“Ross.”

“Bye Dan.”

“Ross.”

“I’m not coming out of here Dan.”

“ _Ryan._ ”

“Wha- _argh_!”

Ryan blinked against the sudden bright light, his safety cover being pulled off of him. He groaned and curled up, cursing himself for not locking the bedroom door.

“Keyes, I swear you have just a few seconds to run before I kill you.”

Ryan was completely unprepared for the voice that replied, “Well, Ross. I’ve never been sacred of you before and I have no intentions of starting now.”

Ryan tried to bury his head under the pillow and grabbed onto it with both hands, lest that too be snatched away from him.

“Seriously? Do you really think I’m going to leave if you keep your head stuck under the pillow?”

Ryan wanted to scream and beat his fists against the bed, except he didn’t want to be called a five year old, “I _can_ hope that you’ll catch the hint and leave.”

He heard the man sigh behind him and the next second he felt hands grab his ankles before pulling him till he was almost completely off the bed.

“Get up, get dressed and come downstairs.” 

This time Ryan did beat his fists against the mattress but only after he’d heard the door close. He tried stalling as much as he could, taking ages to get up and walk till the bathroom. He hated the way things were starting to spin out of his control, people he hadn’t thought about in months suddenly appearing in his life again.

He hadn’t wanted this but there really wasn’t much he could do because despite all his bravado the person waiting for him downstairs scared the ever living shit out of Ryan.

Ryan hadn’t left the house in two days. It wasn’t that he was scared, of course not, it’s just. He really didn’t want to see Pete again. The fighting and the arguments had all been done before and repeating them would lead to nothing. He knew that.

This was why he wasn’t hiding but he was making sure that history didn’t repeat itself.

A part of him wanted to pack his bags and move to Chicago because Chicago had Jon and Jon was _safe_. And maybe a year earlier he would have done just that except with the baby and Jon trying to get back into the music business, Ryan didn’t want to add to Jon’s already hectic life.

And Jon’s struggles were another reason he didn’t want to see Pete.

He got that Pete was angry with him; it’s not like he didn’t return the feeling but Pete being angry with Jon made no sense at all. And that was what pissed him off because a part of him, a very large and vocal part of him felt that in some way he was responsible for Jon’s struggles and it wasn’t a very good feeling.

This was why he dragged his feet as he went down the stairs, still in his pyjamas as a form of defiance. This was his house and he could walk around naked if he very well wanted to and no one, no one at all could make him change his mind.

Even if they were Patrick Stump, who Ryan found sitting outside playing with Cpt. Knots.

“Good Morning sunshine,” Patrick smiled at him.

Ryan scowled at him and pulled Cpt. Knots closer, ignoring the sharp claws that were digging into his arms, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Patrick reclined back on the chair, “you haven’t responded to any of Pete’s texts which is making him anxious and dealing with an anxious Pete is very trying. So I figured it was time I step in because if left to the two of you I’m pretty sure nothing will come out of it.”

Ryan let go of his cat, “There’s nothing to come out of it. I don’t want to accept Pete’s offer.”

“Why not?” Patrick sighed, stroking Knot’s head.

“I just don’t want to.” Ryan said petulantly, his arms crossed as he glared at his traitor of a cat.

“I thought we’d all grown up by now but I guess I was wrong.”

“I _have_ grown up which is how I know that this decision is right for me,” Ryan tried to be as calm as possible, “I’ve thought a lot about it and I know I can’t go back to Decaydance again. There’s too much damage.”

“I disagree.”

“Yeah well,” Ryan scoffed, “you weren’t there. When we left and all the things that were said you weren’t there to see what happened.”

“Maybe,” Patrick shrugged, “but it wasn’t hard to hear figure out. And from what I can tell it’s nothing but a simple case of people not saying what they _really_ want to say.”

“A simple case of miscommunication that’s lasted four years?” Ryan asked, wondering if it would be rude if he straight out asked Patrick to leave.

“No one ever said you guys were smart,” Patrick smirked, “but that’s the thing. You’re still thinking about what went wrong when in reality this is about _you_. Do you think this will be good for you or are you turning it down because you don’t want the drama of dealing with everyone? You need to figure that out Ryan because the decision needs to be one that’s right for _you.”_

Ryan played with the tassels on the cushion, not sparing a glance at Patrick. He’d never been good at eye contact and a part of him was pissed that even years later Patrick could make him feel like a chastened kid.

“You left for you and I think that’s commendable. Not everyone would have the courage to let go of something they helped create. But you did it and look at you now, how much you’ve grown. There was a time when you took no decision without taking everyone’s opinion on it. I honestly can’t tell you how proud I am to see you like this but right now you’re being a coward again. And the Ryan Ross I know had left that behind years ago.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“Now you’re just being an ass,” Patrick smacked Ryan on the head and continued on, ignoring his look of outrage, “take the entire day today, think about it and let Pete know what you’ve decided. But don’t do it because you’re worried about what others will think or that you don’t want to fight with people anymore. This is for you.”

Giving Cpt. Knots a last pat, Patrick hugged Ryan once before going back in. Long after the sounds of a car leaving had faded away Ryan still sat outside, the sun warming his skin as he marvelled over the magical powers of Patrick Stump who after all these, still had the ability to make Ryan think.

It was true, he’d said no without thinking because just the thought of sharing space again with Brendon and Spencer, even saying their name made Ryan want to stop thinking about it, was enough to make his palms sweat.

But this was about him.

_*_

“He’s not going to call.”

Patrick wanted to throw something at his boyfriend as he fell onto the couch next to him. Instead he took a deep breath and kept playing Fall Out Bird.

“I told you he won’t call. This is Ross we’re talking about –“

Patrick watched in amusement as Pete lunged for his phone when it buzzed.

“Holy shit.”

Pete shoved his phone screen in Patrick’s face, who cursed as his Joe-bird crashed into his guitar neck and fell. Patrick’s anger melted though when he saw the text open on Pete’s phone. He looked up at Pete in triumph, the simple “Yes.” enough to improve his mood.

“He still didn’t call though.”

Patrick took another deep breath and headed for his study, intent on locking Pete out so that he could beat Andy.

The smile didn’t leave his face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words. 
> 
> 5 months. Fuck. I've been writing, a lot. Just a lot of it is for HP and all Bandom stuff is things I'm playing with for BBB. 
> 
> I won't promise anything but I will try to update a lot sooner now.


	6. *dun dun dun dun*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *cue ominous music*

“I miss you,” Brendon whispered into the phone, conscious of everyone sleeping around him. Years spent on the road had made it almost a habit for him to talk softly on the phone. Ryan used to be a right bitch if someone disturbed his sleep, “I love you.”

Sometimes he felt like he was cheating whenever he thought about Ryan. Because the thoughts were never just _that_ , they weren’t just a simple thought that occurred to him and then passed on. They were always accompanied by memories that were powerful enough to leave him dazed later. They could make him smile, they could make him angry and they could make him sad. But sometimes, they could even make him bite his lip and think very hard of his girlfriend because there was no way he was going to think about an ex while jacking off in his bunk.

“I love you too,” Sarah yawned, making Brendon feel guilty for making her stay up late to talk to him.

He heard someone move past his bunk, making him feel okay to cut the call short so that Sarah could sleep. Staying awake alone was a pain.

Walking into the front of the bus he waited till his eyes adjusted to the darkness before he could make out someone sitting at the table, looking out the window.

“Spence?”

Spencer turned, his expression making Brendon slide close to him on the seat, “Did I wake you up?”

“Na, I was already up,” Brendon casually leaned against Spencer, knowing nothing pissed Spencer off more than someone getting in his face about offering comfort, “what’s your excuse?”

Spencer shrugged, the movement jostling Brendon, “It’s too quiet, you know . . .” Spencer trailed off but Brendon knew what he wanted to say. Sometimes Brendon felt that Spencer dealt with damage the same way his mom would fix a stain on their rug; by hiding it from sight and forgetting about it. This was what he’d done, effectively forgotten about _everything_ by jumping headfirst into a relationship. Which was now that it was over Brendon could tell Spencer was floundering in the dark, looking for something to hold onto because it was only now that Spencer was starting to realise that the one person he’d always leaned on wasn’t available anymore.

 “You know,” Brendon nudged Spencer with his shoulder, making him turn from where he was staring out the window, “I have the brand new Blu Ray version of Notting Hill and there’s I know you have a packet of Oreos stacked somewhere.”

It took Spencer a minute to nod and Brendon waited patiently, he could do that.

“What the fuck, sure, let’s do it. _But_ if we’re late for call tomorrow I’ll be sure to let Zack know whose idea it was,” Spencer smirked, grabbing his hidden stash of Oreos. (Brendon _knew_ they’d been hidden behind the bag of granola bars!)  

Brendon gasped, one hand placed dramatically on his heart, “Et tu Spencer Smith?”

Spencer laughed and headed towards the lounge, “I’m not taking the fall for you fucker.”

Brendon didn’t even care at that moment about the impending lecture that was awaiting him in the morning.

Spencer was laughing, he looked lighter than he had in days and Brendon could care less about tomorrow at that moment.

*^*

Brendon managed to escape Zack’s clutches but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught. He decided to spend his last few precious seconds alive bothering Pete because that was always fun. They were overlapping with Fall Out Boy in only a few cities; Brendon couldn’t wait for their next tour, starting in two months, because touring with FOB was never not awesome.

“Joe!” Brendon called out as he climbed onto their bus, “it’s been too long!”

Joe laughed, hugging Brendon back before pushing him away from his hair, “It’s been three weeks man! If I’d known you missed me this much I would have written.”

“You break my heart Trohman,” Brendon said solemnly, nodding his head, “Where’s the rest of your posse?”

“My _posse_ ,” Joe placed his guitar back on its stand, “is out, obviously. Andy is off somewhere doing something I didn’t ask because it’s wise not to. And Patrick and Pete are meeting someone near the lot.”

“Thank you, good sir, I’ll be off now,” Brendon tipped his imaginary hat to Joe and started towards the door, calling out as he jumped off, “there’s more of your band members I want to annoy.”

Brendon strolled through the parked buses, enjoying the sounds and sights around him. It never ceased to amaze him how everyday these hundreds of people travelled to a new destination, set up stage, effects and entire shows everywhere and then took it all down to start over again the next day.

By the time he reached the parking lots Brendon decided to make Patrick and Pete take him for lunch because they’d made him walk in the burning sun looking for them. He waved at Andy, who was playing soccer with some techs, though from the look of it his team was losing.

Brendon reached the last bus and sighed in relief at the shade as he walked along its side. He could make out Patrick standing at the other end but he moved a little till he was behind the bus, probably take cover from the sun.

_Or looking from some alone time with Pete_ , Brendon sniggered, this could turn out to be fun if could sneak up till the end. Slowly and as quietly as possible Brendon tip toed along the bus, praying Patrick doesn’t come back in view. He edged along the bus, pausing as he reached the end. Now was the difficult part, timing was crucial. He needed to make sure they weren’t doing something that he’d rather not see. Not that he didn’t want to; hell he knew it would be hot. But an angry Patrick Stump was a terrifying sight. He listened closely, waiting for a moan, or in Pete’s case, a descriptive curse that would be his cue to leave.

“What are you doing?”

Brendon shrieked and jumped, almost falling forward onto the asphalt. He turned to find Spencer leaning against the bus, laughing so hard he was shaking.

“What the fuck, man?!” Brendon tried to calm his breathing, his heart felt like it was racing, “Are you trying to kill me, sneaking up like that?!”

Before Spencer could answer, Brendon heard Patrick say, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Brendon paled, hoping he hadn’t made Patrick angry but when he turned to face Patrick and Pete to start apologising, what he saw, or rather who he saw made his voice die in his throat and his heart stop.

Ryan Ross.

Living and breathing, Ryan was standing next to Pete. Once upon his time his expression might have made Brendon laugh, his eyes wide as he stared at Brendon like he’d seen a ghost. But once upon a time was for fairytales and reality was far from happy endings.

“What the fuck.” Spencer breathed next to him, low enough that only Brendon could hear him but he could tell that Ryan knew what Spencer said because _fuck, a few years of separation isn’t nearly enough_.

“Umm,” Ryan began awkwardly, looking towards Patrick and Pete for support, “Hi.”

Brendon couldn’t trust himself to speak so he settled for nodding, a curt jerk of his head while Spencer remained motionless next to him.

Ryan was now looking anywhere but at the two of them while Pete and Patrick were whispering together and from the sound of it Patrick was angry at Pete. Brendon couldn’t even muster up enough emotions to enjoy the sight.

Before Ryan could make the situation anymore awkward there was the sound of a horn blaring from the other side of the lot, as one all five of them turned to see who it was, glad for the respite from the silence. Ryan’s sigh of relief was enough to confirm Brendon’s suspicions and make him feel cold inside.

“Umm, that’s my ride,” Ryan smiled at Pete and Patrick, who clapped Ryan on the shoulder and said, “I’ll call you up later to finalise stuff.”

Ryan nodded at him and accepted Pete’s hug before turning to glance at Brendon and Spencer again. He looked like he wanted to say something, his teeth biting into his lower lip as his hand reached up to run through his hair and Brendon hated to admit that he was waiting to hear what Ryan would say. But at the last minute Ryan seemed to lose his nerve, he settled for waving, a small swipe of his hand before he was almost jogging towards the car.

Towards Dan Keyes, who was smiling at Ryan and who made Ryan laugh loud enough that Brendon could hear him from the other side of the lot.

Next to him he heard Spencer’s breath hitch as he turned on his heel and stalked away without sparing anyone else a glance.

Brendon shook his head as Pete took a step towards him, “Not a word, Wentz.”

With that Brendon headed in the opposite direction to where Spencer had gone.

Both of them needed some time alone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild chapter appeared! And it's not 5 months late! :D 
> 
> Can you tell I spend hours finding a chapter name? ;)


	7. Let's take it from the top.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on stage, Ryan thinks, feels different and yet so much the same.

Being on stage, Ryan thinks, feels different and yet so much the same. He waits for the feeling to get overwhelming, a valid reason to give this all up before it starts but for some reason the similarities outweigh the differences and it makes him feel unbalanced. The pre-show nerves, the rush of being on stage, the high of sharing his words, _his thoughts_ , with the world will never go away, no matter how many times he gets to do this. It makes him comfortable, knowing that no matter what, he’ll still love performing, the thrill of going on stage.

That’s where the similarities end.

He feels bare, _exposed_ , having to stand there on stage alone with no one next to him. He has never had to sing his words like this before, alone with no one there to support him. Before, he had Brendon and he’d never had to worry about it. Then, he had Jon and he wasn’t alone but now he is and it’s scary. It’s terrifying enough to make him want to give up but he promised Pete he would try and Ryan’s doing this new thing now, where he tries to keep his promises.

So he does it, he signs up for an open mic night at a local cafe, obscure enough that the chance of one of his friends walking in is almost zero. To make it easier, he signs up as George Ross, the name feeling wrong and not like him, even after all these years.

He spends the day fretting, walking about his house and thinking up reasons as to why he shouldn’t do this, why it’s a bad idea, why there’s a reason he hasn’t done this yet.

At five minutes to six, when he’s about thirty seconds away from hiding in his room, Patrick calls.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Patrick says by way of greeting.

Ryan huffs out a laugh, sitting down in the middle of his staircase, “You’re a mind reader now?”

“Ryan,” Patrick sighs, and Ryan can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “what is it that you’re scared of?”

_Failing, making a fool out of myself, proving for the third time that I really can’t do this,_ he wants to say; instead he goes with, “I don’t think I’m a one man performer.”

“I think you make the lamest excuses,” Patrick shoots back, his voice smug.

Ryan leans his head against the banister, the wood cool against his flushed skin, “Why are you wasting your time in the music business? You could earn more being a therapist.”

“And majority of my clients would still be tortured artists,” Patrick chuckles, “at least this way I get to badger people till they take my advice.”

“I don’t think I’m ready,” Ryan says in a small voice, hoping Patrick didn’t hear him.

“I think,” Patrick starts, his voice low and soft, like when he’s bringing Pete down from his moments of panic, “you’ve been ready for a long time but you feel like you shouldn’t be.”

Ryan shakes his head, “That makes no sense at all.”

“It does. You’re doing the whole martyr thing again and it’s time you stop.”

“Patrick –“

“—No, you listen to me,” Patrick cuts him off, “just because things might not have worked out the way you wanted them do doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. So stop thinking that all you’re supposed to do now is stay in the background and hope no one notices you.”

Ryan wants to cut the call. Because he knows, he knows that Patrick is right and that’s what this has been all about. Earlier, when it was still fresh and hurt a lot more, he and Jon used to joke that it was like a divorce. Brendon and Spencer got the name and the songs and the people. And Ryan had managed to find peace with that because he wasn’t going to start a fight over their friends choosing sides. So he was content and it was okay. But now, now he was stepping foot into the pool again and he wasn’t sure he was allowed which was stupid because he could whatever he wanted. The same way Jon did what _he_ wanted and went back to Chicago.

“Ryan?” Patrick asks, sounding worried and Ryan realises he’s been quiet for quite some time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan coughs, wondering why his throat’s so dry, “I’m here. Just. Don’t let Pete come to the thing, please?”

So he goes and he plays and it’s better than he expected. He knows some people recognise him but that’s inevitable and he doesn’t let it affect him. Five songs and twenty minutes later he leaves the stage to applause. For a month that’s all he does, playing at random cafes two or three times a week. He finally breaks and tells Dan, Z and the others about what he’s been doing and no one laughs at him. Dan even gets him a white jacket to wear on stage, “to compensate for the missing makeup,” he jokes. And Ryan’s happy.

Till the day someone takes a photo and decides to share it with the world.

“So you figured you would just stay in the underground scene?” Dan asks as Ryan meticulously shreds the news paper.

“No,” Ryan bites out, tearing the strips into little pieces, “but I wanted it to be on my terms.”

“Then it would have never happened.” Dan remarks, stealing away the sports page before Ryan could get to it.

Ryan stays quiet, focussed on destroying the paper.

He thinks he can do this. Maybe it really isn’t as terrifying as he’s making it out to be; after all he’s done it not once, but twice. So he mans up and calls Pete, letting him know that he wants to meet him and Patrick. They decide to meet at a venue Fall Out Boy will be playing at next week and Ryan feels excited. He’s ready to do this and maybe it’s time he lets go of the past.

And then he runs into Brendon and Spencer.

It’s awkward and weird and new and wrong, _so wrong_. Ryan wants to turn to Pete and Patrick and say, “Look! _This_ is why it won’t work out because you chose them and now you can’t go back and say, _Wait, I don’t want to choose_ ,” because the look of betrayal on Brendon’s face is clear and loud.

But it’s Spencer who has Ryan’s attention. Spencer who gave him a place to sleep when he couldn’t go home and who learned the drums so that Ryan wasn’t alone and who had _promised_ that no matter what, they would always be best friends. Ryan doesn’t want to look at him and yet he can’t tear his gaze away and he takes comfort in the fact that Spencer seems to have the same problem.

When Spencer ignores him completely, Ryan looks anywhere but at the two of them, fidgeting with his sleeves. By the time Dan arrives to pick him up it feels like it’s been hours of awkwardness, even though it hasn’t been more than two minutes. It’s hard not to run to the car and leave.

“I came at just right time?” Dan asks, peering over his sunglasses at the people standing on the other end of the lot.

And Ryan laughs, loud and clear and so relieved, “You have no idea.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of Ryan feels from reading old fics that I needed to put down to paper. :) 
> 
> Next Chapter - Jon Walker decides to give Ryan Ross a call.


End file.
